The Aftermath of the Fall

I leave my room in the morning, thoughtlessly and still half asleep walking towards the elevator. There’s a sign on it, reminding me that the elevators are out of order. Reminding me of last night. My heart races a little as I wake up, remembering that light. Shaking my head, I turn and walk down the stairs.

It’s a bit early for the stairs to be crowded, but there are quite a few people grumbling as they head down to the continental breakfast. Or whatever they call it here. People complaining about the elevator breaking. Wondering what happened. Murmuring rumors about the crash, about the three people who had to go to the hospital. About how lucky they were to have not been there. And they’re probably right. I follow the flow of the crowd down and into the lobby area, where the breakfast buffet sits, waiting for us.

I don’t see most of the others, though as I’m settled in to eat my waffle, I do see Katrina eventually shuffle her way in as well, blinking heavily. She notices me as she exits the buffet and comes over. “Mind if I sit here?” she asks, standing over the table I’m eating at.

“No problem,” I reply.

She sits down and starts to eat, before stopping randomly. “Hey random question, um,” she begins, stopping to try to remember my name.

“Jackson,” I give it to her, “What’s up?”

She takes a deep breath, clearly weighing what to say. “Have you noticed anything weird happening to you? Since we got back from the woods, I mean.”

I furrow my brow. Not really. Other than the feeling of my skin crawling. “What do you mean by weird?”

“I feel like I’ve been seeing things. Feeling things that I shouldn’t be able to,” she explains. “Like, that guy over there has the flu. Never met him before, but as I walked into the room I just knew.”

“Not that I know about,” I begin, then I remember the mirror last night. “Except,” I begin, and I look into her eyes. Sure enough, pulsing deep in the pupils, a faint purple glow. “Have you looked in a mirror?”

She looks confused. “Not really?” She says, “I’m not dealing with my makeup until after breakfast and coffee. Why?”

I sigh. “Well, after my bath last night, I saw something weird. Remember the glow the pulsed? I saw the same thing in my pupils. And in yours.”

“You have any idea what that means?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Ask Seleste, if you see her. She was the one taking copious notes.”

Katrina looks at me for a moment, then nods. She adds, “You seem a bit more confident today,” she says, “Good on you.”

I shrug, trying to brush it off, but she’s right. I do feel oddly more confident. “A bit, maybe. But I think part of it is just whatever is going on with us is affecting you more than it is me.”

She nods. “Maybe,” she admits.

After we eat, she heads upstairs. I, on the other hand, head straight for the front desk. As I approach, the receptionist quickly heads back, bringing out their manager. Clearly they were told to expect some of us. I smile at the manager as I sigh. “Hello, Mister,” I look at his name tag, “Montero.”

“Mister Phillips,” he replies with a pleasant but detached smile, “How can we be of assistance.”

I give him a nod. “Listen, I was just hoping we could extend our stays for another week. Not everyone will stay the whole time, of course, but we’re all shaken up and recovering, and especially that poor family with the injured parents, I was hoping that when I visit them, I could at least assure them they don’t have to worry about where they’re sleeping while their mother recovers in the hospital.”

I think it’s a bit unreasonable of a request, but not too much. I even expect a bit of pushback, like maybe having to pay some albeit discounted price for the additional days. But as I look him in the eyes, smiling and asking him to do it, stares back and his smile becomes more genuine. He nods, and says, “Of course. Just ask anyone who plans on checking out early to inform us before doing so.” I think for a moment that something was seriously wrong with the elevator, but that doesn’t make sense. Whatever happened, with the light and the forest, that’s not their fault. I don’t think.

“Of course. And thank you so much for your generosity in this matter. It is much appreciated,” I reply as he types some things into the computer.

“Not a problem, Mister Phillips,” he replies, “I’m happy to help.” Then he turns and heads back into the office.

The receptionist looks at me in awe. “How did you do that?” she sputters out. “Mister Montero is never happy, much less happily accommodating.”

I shrug. “Honestly, don’t know,” I reply, then leaning in and giving a hushed whisper, I add, “I think he might be trying to keep us from suing, because he thinks there might be some fault.”

She laughs. “But you don’t seem to think that,” she says.

I shrug once again. “I suppose I don’t,” I begin, then looking around clearly pretending to be conspiratorial, I jokingly add, “But don’t be telling anyone that, okay.”

“Of course,” she equally jokingly responds, “Don’t want to be ruining your extended vacation.” She chuckles as I wave.

“See you later,” I say.

She suppresses her entertained chuckle long enough to add, “Enjoy your stay.”

I head outside. It’s only outside that I realize, what if that’s what happened to me. Not the confidence, but I asked the hotel manager to do something that normally they wouldn’t want to do, and they did it not only willingly but happily. As I’m walking down the road towards the hospital, I can’t help but chuckle at that thought. Me, being able to get people to do what I want them to do? A ridiculous notion.

I make it to the hospital and head inside. At a vending machine near the lobby, I see a nervous Win. Walking up, I ask, “Win, right?”

He spins around to look at me. Then, recognizing me, he nods. “Winsten. Alyson calls me Win to, well, it’s a bit of a joke.”

I nod. “Alright. Winsten then,” I say, “I just wanted to let you know, I talked with the manager at the hotel, and if you want, your rooms there have been extended for a week, free of charge. You don’t need to, of course, just tell them if you want to check out early, but I figured it might be nice to know you have.”

He takes a moment, staring at me, through me, before he nods. “Thanks, um,”

“Jackson,” I tell him my name.

“Right,” he replies as though he feels like he should know it. “Thanks, Jackson. I don’t need to worry about it much, but I could tell Alyson was a bit frayed about it.”

“And your other friend, the one with the broken arm, how’s he doing?” I ask.

Winsten’s eyes dart around, and he leans in as he starts to lead me through the halls towards the others. “The weirdest thing happened last night. Middle of the night, I swear, he sort of grabbed his broken arm and gave it a little massage, and then started moving it around like it was no big deal. He’s lying and saying it’s still broken, we’re corroborating the story of course and people are buying it, but I don’t think it is anymore.”

I take a deep breath. The guy who broke his arm from a two story fall in an elevator can heal a broken bone in an instant. Ridiculous. Except I could barely convince myself to do anything yesterday, and today someone just complied with my request, no questions asked. I shake my head. “Honestly, I believe it,” I say. As we make it to the area where other people are, he heads over to Lyle and Alyson, and I find the family, waiting by their mother’s bedside. She’s still out.

I knock politely at the door. Their father turns and his face warms slightly upon seeing me. “Yes, is everything alright?”

I nod. Before I get a chance to speak, though, the kid speaks up. “He’s probably here to tell us about the rooms,” the kid says.

“I was here to check in with you,” I insist, before admitting, “And yes, tell you that after I talked with the manager, the comped stay has been extended for another week. How does he know that?”

The father shrugs. “He has said a few things this morning that haven’t made much sense.”

“What about you?” I ask, “How are you doing with all of this?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, “I haven’t actually slept yet. Once things have settled down a bit, I might have an answer for you.”

“By the way, I want to check in on the old man, too. Any idea what room he’s in?”

The father laughs at that. “The vet? As soon as they finished setting everything and threw a cast on him, he left. AMA, of course, but I don’t think he cared. He was here on vacation and he wanted to be sure he’d get his money’s worth of fun.

The water in the IV bags all seem to float in place, as the kid furrows his brow. Then he says, “Mister Jennings is going to some kind of oceanside tiki bar, whatever that means.”

The water still hangs there, floating, confusing the heck out of some of the nurses around. “Well I’ll check that out, kid. Thanks,” I reply. As I’m turning to leave, the water all splashes back down. Strange.

As I’m walking out, the trio of college kids join me. “Hey, Jackson,” Alyson says, “Thanks about the room thing. I talked with that manager guy a few days ago, so I know you probably had a rough time getting him to budge on anything.”

I shake my head. “Not really,” I reply, “I just asked.”

“Really,” she begins, “But…”

I cut her off. Hospitals are very well cameraed and public. “Maybe not the right place to talk about how I might have been able to MASSAGE the situation,” I say, putting emphasis on massage. She seems to get what I want anyone else seeing it to think I’m implying, but it’s not for them. Both Lyle and Winston immediately understand what I’m saying.

“Right,” Lyle says, “Where are we headed?”

“The beach, to see the old guy.” Then I realize, I might not need to google it. “You guys are college kids. Where’s the nearest beachside Tiki bar?”

“You assume we just know that?” Winston asks.

Alyson replies. “It’s the Shipwrecked Smuggler’s Shack. I can show you.” which, of course, causes a bit of a chuckle. Once we’re on the street and away from people, Lyle asks. “So, really, how?”

“Like you fixed your arm, like Katrina knew some guy who didn’t look sick at all had the flu with just a glance, I just asked and he seemed happy to help me out. To do what I asked.” Then, I add, “have any of you taken time today or last night to look in the mirror?”

Alyson replies instantly. “You mean the faint glow?”

I nod. “I think that crack or whatever it was, it’s changing us.”

“I saw it, for sure, but I don’t feel that much different from yesterday,” Alyson responds.

“Saw what?” Winsten asks.

“Inside our pupils is a faint purple light that’s pulsing in intensity. Like the light and sound from last night,” I answer honestly.

Lyle looks confused, before saying, “So we’re becoming what, like, superheroes or something?”

I shrug yet again, a gesture quickly becoming my go to one when approaching this whole ordeal. “I asked Katrina to talk to Seleste about it. If that doesn’t work, and the old man is in fact at this random tiki bar, I say we ask the kid.”

“The kid?” Alyson asks.

“Why?” Winsten elaborates on her question.

I pause, thinking about it. “He seems to somehow know things,” I offer the best explanation I can. After all, I don’t know how he knows things, either.